The tunnel turned out to be the perfect place to spend the night. Very few cars came through from either direction and those that did gave the crew a wide berth. Thunderstorms pummelled their way across the whole region but the team stayed dry under the shelter of the long tunnel.
Franco and the rest of the team who stayed behind to bury the drones spent the night in the work site trailer. It was reasonably comfortable though a bit noisy as the forceful rainstorm pounded the roof, the metal shell reverberating like an old Stratocaster through a daisy chain of distortion, reverb, and flanger effects pedals which was music to some and pure annoyance to others. They seemed to be far more interested in the card games they had going than what was happening outside. That is until the reverb turned into a clanging sort of drumbeat. In unison, every one of them stopped talking, some stopped breathing, and all pulled their guns and knives as they quietly created a makeshift barrier behind which they hid, eyes trained on the door, weapons ready.
Samuel's best friend in the world, Garldiparn, a short man with no hair and a tatoo of a old-time train which ran the length of his torso, spiralling steam from his chest to his navel, approached the door. he answered it nonchalantly," Ah, yeah, whatchu want?" Three large men stood in the doorway with rain pelting them from above, having a hard time even looking at Garldiparn. "Well, c'mon in, you'll catch your death out there," he said, grinning from ear to ear, smoking a big fat cigar of some homegrown hand-rolled that stunk up the air and sent clouds toward the visitors faces. "You guys shouldn't be out here, nobody supposed to be on the site at night, but hey, I get super lonely, ya know, I got cards, you guys play cards? "Course you do, c'mon, I got a table back here somewhere," Garldiparn rambled as he walked back toward the team.
"Oh no, ah, nevermind," the largest of the men said in the nicest voice he could muster. "We're just looking for some friends of ours, thought they might have stopped here. We'll just be moving on."
"Okay boys, you suit yourself. Hey, do you think your friends are lost?" he continued, the men looked unsure of what to say."Because if they are lost then they are definitely on the north road, it's been washed out all day, "bout twenty minutes north of here, damn broke. Everyone who drive past here been goin' on the southwest pass road, only way out of here, but if your friends are stuck? north road for sure, maybe dead, who knows, so sorry to hear bout your friends. You close? I got some good friends, real close..."
"Yeah, thanks pal," the big guy cut in, "We'll be going, we really have to find our friends," he said turning away, pushing the other two out the door."That guy wasn't about to stop talking, let's get the Varst outta here. My guess is that they're well past here now, beyond the southwest pass, they sure as Varst aren't about to take the Juice up into the mountains when the road is washed out." The other two men nodded in agreement as all three got into their cars and sped off in the direction of the southwest pass trailing a motorcade of another ten cars, identical to theirs, behind them, on a mission, after the Juice.
"Okay, gentlemen, they have departed, you may all come out now. I believe they have been properly misled and are currently in pursuit of nobody on a road to nowhere," Garldiparn said as he rubbed his hands together eagerly,"I believe I was just about to increase my wager if memory serves!" The rest of the team burst out laughing as they emerged from behind the wall of boxes, site maps and safety gear to congratulate "Gardi" on his brilliant performance.
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